Sandy Blue Pastels

The baby pastel blues

Off the shores of Lake Michigan

Fall crashing coldly

Onto sandy homes

Roaring from the weather

The wind and the snow

Waking me in the morning

Through the pines

Between ice tipped shrubs

Beating on the glass outside my window

Awakened to light brighter

Song lighter

Of the winter birds

The lake reveals a storm overhead

Three feet of snow headed to Michigan

I protect my warmth in the morning

As the heat evades my winter skin

To a cold Michigan morning

Under a snow and ice so thin

Pine needles crackle

Tied together loose with water and cold

Under each foot gives way

To an earth frozen

But only days ago

It was an early rip of storms for this time of year

Creating a palpable uncertainty in the air

Cars wheels fell ungraspable to pavement frozen

Sliding from one side to the other

It was a frigid morning in Michigan

Truly I was not prepared

For winters cold hand

Had laid its awakening on falls back

And now into winter we are fashioned

With waves crashing

Small drops splashing

Higher than the rock walls

Where the drips fall

Creation of some new frozen ice

To tell the story of this transition

Truly is a testament to my position

Tucked in the woods

Staying warm for now

Under the winter sun in Michigan

Spent my Last 5 Bucks

Spent my last five bucks

Not quite sure how I am going to get back

Evening lunch and quite pack

I am thinking of you

That is what helps me get through

The rough times that we have faced

Here and there

Not everyday is like today

But on someday’s I am left

With little to no change

Spent my last five bucks

Times have gotten to be hard

River drying up

The spool has no more yarn

I cannot help but wonder

How we can make it through

Change in my hand

In my jean pocket

Of faded blue

Spent my last five bucks

Paychecks distance themselves

Somewhere in Michigan

Off of the old state road

North of the line

Making my way back home

I get back in the car and breathe

Some music will help the fear ease

On a summer day in late August

This is what I see

Spent my last five bucks

Grabbing some gas and food

You will make it all alright

I will be back home soon

The Glass Hand

Water swells and summer grass

Sand upon the evening glass

The contrast of light on dark

Upon the sky a velvet spark

A small haze of grey from cars and trucks

Full in the sky a lagoon

A muck

Creating and burning a sunset so sweet

But the sweetness is no real treat

It burns through smoke created

For all the bustling intimidated

Water gelling lapping on concrete hard

White peers waltzing on summer’s fluid

Trees lurk over houses full

Of human

And dog

And cat

Running around on the grass flat

In circles splashing on summer lawns

Fences full of splendor and hate

Making other wait

For a calling or a sweat drop

Around the corner the fruit shop

Building concrete burning in summer sun

Construction men counting seconds

Until they are done

Trains passing and divulging whistles

Upon the hills of southern Michigan

They pass with coal burning bright

Flashing lights on this summer night

The whistles whilst me to sleep

As the my eyes fall

And summer creeks

A summer day in this land

My thoughts fall through the glass hand

Boiled Noodles

Boiled noodles midnight in Michigan
My hunger has me going again
Boiling water and some salt will do
Just something to get me through
Water bubbles quick and constant
Soften up the noodles please
From the small pan emits the steam
The refrigerator buzz keeps me awake
Constant hum for god sake
Shut that thing off or turn it down
It is the only thing that I can hear now
Filling up my ears with constant buzz
Keeping the food safe and cool
Mind wandering through pantries and closets
To fill my stomach
Sitting quirky in the kitchen den
Back to waiting for those noodles again